The Toltnie Warbler 



chinquapin, or mountain mahogany suits him best. Here he may hide, 

 a most persistent skulker, wary, suspicious, active, and very competent. 

 Yet even he, when he thinks no one is looking, emerges from his shrubbery 

 depths, selects a topmost twig and breaks out in song, — a song which 

 is neither diffident nor uncertain. Sheep sheep sheep shear shear sheep, 

 he announces in a brisk, business-like tone, totally devoid of musical 

 quality. And when you have heard him once, or, say, a hundred times, 

 you have learned all that may be 

 known of the Tolmie Warbler — out 

 of cover. Those who know the 

 Dickcissel of the middle West will 

 at once be struck with the close A 

 similarity of its song, although 

 it must be admitted that the 

 Warbler's is lighter in quality 

 and less wooden. A close 

 study of these efforts dis- 

 closes some variation, both 

 in the number of the syl- 

 lables and in the number 

 and distribution of the r's; 

 thus, Sheep, sheep, shear, 

 shear, sheep; Sheep, 

 sheep, shear, shear, 

 sheep, sheep; and, a 

 shade more emphatic, Jick 

 jick, jick, jick, shear, sheep. 

 A Lake County performer 

 sounded forth eight times 

 per minute in songs of a 

 second and a quarter's dur- 

 ation : crik, crik, crik, crik, nest and eggs of the tolmie warbler 

 ree'tie; while the members 



of a colony near Sisson invariably said, Creek, creek, creek, 

 bizhup', bizhup'. 



For all we see so little of the Tolmie Warbler, the converse is by 

 no means true. That is to say, the bird does see a great deal of us 

 if we frequent the thickets. Whenever there is anything doing in his 

 vicinity, the Warbler promptly and silently threads the intervening 

 mazes, takes observations of the disturber from every angle, and retires 

 with, at most, a disapproving chuck. In the fall of the year discipline 



Taken in Fresno County 

 Photo by the Author 



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